


stolen kiss

by nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare



Category: No. 6 (Anime & Manga), No. 6 - All Media Types, No. 6 - Asano Atsuko
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-12 02:08:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11151978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare/pseuds/nezumiprefersdanielleovershakespeare
Summary: Nezumi steals wallets by distracting his targets with a kiss.





	stolen kiss

**Author's Note:**

> I originally wrote and posted this fic in July, 2014. 
> 
> I'm reposting some of my old fics from the many accounts I previously deleted over the past few years, so if you're familiar with my fics and want to request that I repost a certain old fave, feel free to message me at my tumblr: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com or comment on this post: http://coolasamackerel.tumblr.com/post/160488980276/danielles-nezushifree-fics and I'll be happy to consider reposting it! For both my new readers and my old guys, hope you enjoy the fic!! :D

It is easy to ignore the fact that the kiss is not absolutely necessary.

            Easy to convince himself that no other distraction will suffice, made easier when the intended target runs a hand through his stark white hair.

            White locks flutter back into place, and Nezumi glances at the mirror plastered on a pillar behind a shelf of overpriced coats. His own hair falls in a loose ponytail over his shoulder, and he assesses whether he should redo it before realizing that he is assessing whether he should redo his ponytail _– how ridiculous._

            Nezumi glares at the mirror, then peeks over the shoulder of his reflection at the man behind him, the target, who is thumbing through the rack of overpriced button downs. Nezumi watches as fingers slip into the back pocket of jeans, pull out a wallet, shuffle through an assortment of bills that Nezumi can already feel between his own fingers, then repocket the obese wallet as the target’s expression pulls into a grimace.

            The job could not be easier.

            Another accidental glance at his own ponytail, and Nezumi turns away from the mirror, making easy steps to the rack of button downs.

            The target glances up at his approach, and Nezumi is momentarily distracted by the odd red eyes before he recalls that he is supposed to be the one doing the distracting, and quickly pulls himself together.

            He smiles at the target, walking around the rack to stand beside him, thinking that he only needs one hand to dip in the back pocket and the other will be conveniently free – maybe to ruffle through that white hair, perhaps?

            All as part of the distraction, of course, no other reason.

            The target blinks, eyelids quick over his red eyes, and Nezumi does not think he will even bother with a full excuse – no need to delay that kiss.

            “Sorry, I can’t help myself. Do you mind if I – ?” Nezumi cuts himself off with a small smirk, and the target cocks his head.

            “Mind if you – ?”

            Nezumi has always preferred actions over words, and leans forward, slipping a hand lightly through the target’s hair – conclusion: _ridiculously_ soft – and pressing his lips against the other man’s unfinished question.

            The target does not protest, which Nezumi attests to shock, as he slides his other hand into the man’s back pocket.

            The target continues not to protest as Nezumi slips the wallet out, which Nezumi contributes to his undeniable kissing skill.

            The target begins to kiss back as Nezumi pockets the wallet in his own jeans, but Nezumi cannot think of the explanation for this, and it is he who is distracted, forgetting that this is just part of a plan, forgetting that he does not know this man, forgetting that this kiss means nothing at all.

            His fingers fall limp from the man’s hair, trickling like water to the target’s shoulder, and then the target is pulling apart from Nezumi, who opens his eyes slowly.

            Nezumi should be walking away, but lingers to watch the blooming blush with some fascination. He realizes his hand is still on the target’s shoulder, and removes it, slipping it into his wallet-free pocket.

            “I’m Shion,” the man says, as if it is a normal occurrence for him to be randomly kissed in the middle of shopping for overpriced button downs, as if introducing himself is always his next step after said kiss.

            Nezumi assesses him quickly. Perhaps it is normal for this man. He is much more kissable than the normal person, Nezumi notes, mulling over whether this kissability is to the extent where random department store smooches can be considered a norm.

            He shakes his head. No matter what _Shion’s_ next step is, Nezumi’s next step is in the other direction, and he has no reason to still be standing there.

            No reason other than, perhaps, another go at those lips, but instead of running his hand back through Shion’s hair, he is dipping it into his pocket and pulling out the wallet.

            Shion’s eyes widen. “Did you just take that?”

            Nezumi blinks. _Obviously,_ is what he could say, but opts for silence, mostly because Shion is quickly speaking again.

            “Wow! That’s amazing, how did you do that without me noticing? I truly didn’t feel a thing!”

            Nezumi narrows his eyes. It occurs to him that there is something wrong with this guy’s head.

            “Could you teach me?” the absurd stranger continues, then finally silences long enough to allow Nezumi the chance to word his concern for the apparent inconsistencies of his mental state.

            “You’re really not normal, are you?” Nezumi asks, bewildered, still holding the wallet of the guy he _stole it from_ , as Shion seems to have somehow forgotten.   

            A crease appears between the strange eyes. “What do you mean?”

            “I stole your wallet, and the first thing you do is ask to learn my technique,” Nezumi explains slowly, waving the _stolen_ wallet for emphasis.

            “You didn’t really steal it, though, as I assume you’re going to give it back, seeing as you’re confessing right now,” Shion says, as if his argument is reasonable, as if he is not some degree of insane.

            Nezumi crosses his arms over his chest, wallet still in hand. “What makes you think I’m going to give it back?”

            “If you intended to keep it, I’m not sure why you would have showed me that you stole it. Your appearance is pretty distinct, so if you did run, I could easily describe you to the police, and I’m sure you’d be caught in no time.”

            “For all you know, I’m a dangerous criminal,” Nezumi retorts, a bit angrily. _What is with this guy?_ Nezumi never met a victim of a crime so in denial of being, well, a victim of a crime.

            Shion shrugs. “Maybe. But you don’t seem dangerous to me.”

            “Your instincts are poor.”

            “Not as poor as your stealing skills. If you really intended to keep my wallet, why show me you had it in the first place?”

            Nezumi has no reply to Shion’s question, as it is exactly what he has been inwardly asking himself.

            Brief insanity? Perhaps it’s contagious, and he caught it through his too-quick kiss with this clearly unstable man.

            “Can I have my wallet back?” Shion asks, after Nezumi fails to answer his first question. He holds a hand out but makes no other move to take what is rightfully his.

            Nezumi runs his thumb over his lips and stares at Shion’s open hand, then glances at the wallet.

            After short contemplation, he flips open the wallet, pulls out a twenty, and hands the wallet back to Shion, though he keeps his fingers wrapped around it as he places it in Shion’s palm.

            “If you treat me to dinner,” he says, not really sure why he’s saying it ( _the contagious insanity flaring up again?),_ and to his surprise – though he’s not really sure how he can be surprised by this man anymore – Shion smiles.

            “After you stole that kiss, it only seems appropriate,” he says, and Nezumi lets go of the wallet, his fingers brushing Shion’s skin.

*

“And that’s the story of how we met,” Shion finishes, while Nezumi steals another forkful of cherry pie from his plate.

            Karan only laughs as she slides another slice of pie onto Nezumi’s empty plate. “Oh, you almost had me, darling. Next time you try to trick an old woman, keep in mind that even I know Nezumi would never behave like a criminal.”

            Nezumi smirks around his mouthful of pie as Shion shakes his head.

            “Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind,” he murmurs as his mother leaves their table to attend to a customer just entering the bakery.

            “How dare you lie to your mother,” Nezumi says, once he swallows his mouthful. He winks at Shion as he licks the lingering bits of cherry from his fork slowly.

            “I don’t know why she thinks you’re so innocent. And don’t think I didn’t see that,” Shion chastises, eyebrows raised disapprovingly.

            “See what?” Nezumi asks sweetly, but his innocent boyfriend has become significantly more observant – a necessity, around Nezumi – since the first time they met, and proves it by pointing to Nezumi’s pocket.

            “Don’t you dare go stealing from my mother.”

            Nezumi pouts and pulls out the folded slip of paper he’d snagged from the pocket of Karan’s apron while Shion told their first-meet story. “It’s just the recipe for her cherry cake! She won’t tell me that last ingredient,” Nezumi complains, trying to unfold the paper, but Shion grabs it from his fingers.

            He’s gotten a bit feistier since their first meeting, as well, Nezumi can’t help but notice.

            “She wants you to figure it out on your own. It’s the process of becoming a good baker. Don’t you know that expression about teaching a man to fish?” Shion lectures, annoyingly.

            Nezumi sighs, blowing his bangs from his forehead. “Yeah, yeah,” he mutters, stuffing his face with more pie to cheer himself up.

            Not that he’s altogether disappointed, as later that night back at home, it’s too easy to pin the other man against their wall and slip a hand into his pocket, wrapping his fingers around that recipe and pocketing it himself as he swallows Shion’s moan.

            He may not be as criminally inclined as when they first met, but Nezumi sure as hell isn’t any more innocent, and proceeds to convince Shion of this undeniable fact in a very different way for the rest of the night.

 

THE END


End file.
